


Trigger Point

by celinamarniss



Series: Triumvirate [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort Sex, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Imperial AU, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Multi, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Threesome - F/M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss
Summary: Luke saw Mara stiffen, and her breathing picked up, but he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or pain. He could sense an uneasy flicker through the Force, though she didn’t voice her reaction.“Mara,” he said softly, nuzzling her neck, “is everything alright?”“I’m—fine.”Another wave of discomfort rippled out even though he could feel her struggling to suppress it. Something was very wrong.An incident from Mara’s past disrupts an evening of play.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Mara Jade/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Triumvirate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1494842
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30
Collections: Triumvirate 'Verse





	Trigger Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JediMordsith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/gifts).



> Mind the tags. If you only come to this verse for trashy, id-based fun, or are in any way triggered by discussions and descriptions of sexual assault, maybe skip this one. 
> 
> Merry Christmas to everyone who enjoys the Triumvirate, and especially to evilmouse and JediMordSith.
> 
> Gifted to JediMordSith this time, because I hit her kinks hard with this one. But thanks as always to both evilmouse and JediMordSith, for encouraging me to continue in this verse and for checking my drafts. Half of the Cheunh is evilmouse’s invention, and for the other half I relied on online translators.

Admiring the ripple of muscle and dark blue skin under his hands, Luke traced up the wing of Thrawn’s shoulder blade, letting his mouth follow his fingers. He dropped his head to lick the thin line of the scar that wrapped around a bicep, his hands still wandering leisurely over the planes of Thrawn’s back. 

He heard the catch of Mara’s breath and lifted his head so he could see her over Thrawn’s shoulder. Thrawn had folded her over bent knees, her head pressed to the bed. Thrawn’s fingers trailed up her back, over her ass, and then down between her legs. She sighed, the arch of her back rising and falling, as his hand began to move. 

Luke had already spent himself inside her that night, and now it was his turn to watch as Thrawn leaned over her, wrapped a hand around one of Mara’s wrists, and pulled her arm up behind her to rest in the small of her back. He repeated this gesture with the other arm, until he had both wrists tight in his hand. 

Luke saw Mara stiffen, and her breathing picked up, but he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or pain. He could sense an uneasy flicker through the Force, though she didn’t voice her reaction. The position was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t it. He slid around Thrawn and dropped to her side. 

“Mara,” he said softly, nuzzling her neck. “Is everything alright?” 

“I’m—fine.” 

Another wave of discomfort rippled out even though he could feel her struggling to suppress it. Something was very wrong. 

“We can stop,” he murmured, glancing up a Thrawn, who paused, his hand stilling, an eyebrow raised. 

She shook her head. “No. I can keep going.” 

Pain hadn’t been a problem for her before. She’d enjoyed every stress position they’d put her in, and even a few things they’d done—breathplay came to mind—that skirted the line of safety further than a simple arm hold. 

“Keep going,” she repeated. 

Thrawn began to move his hand between her legs again, sliding wetly through her folds, the fingers of his other hand tightening around her wrists. 

Luke kept his eyes on Mara’s face, and he saw her flinch, her head jerking minutely and mouth gasping open. His hand flew to cup her cheek. 

Images flashed into his mind: a tall, broad man he didn’t recognize—Mara shoved against a hard, cold surface—a large hand wrenching Mara’s arm behind her back—the man’s grip tightening and twisting until something snapped—Mara’s scream—he didn’t stop—didn’t stop fucking her as she grew lightheaded with pain—

 _Kriff._

“Thrawn, you need to stop, _now.”_

Thrawn dropped Mara’s arms and backed away, swinging over the side of the bed to stand at a safe distance. Mara curled into herself, her breathing ragged, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Mara. Mara, sweetheart.” 

Luke wasn’t sure where he could touch her, so he kept his hand flat on the bed between them. Mara had wedged her own hands under her, her shoulders pressed forward into the mattress, spine twisted and legs bent up in the fetal position. 

“It’s okay, Mara, you’re safe now. We’re here with you. No one can hurt you, sweetheart.” He continued to speak in a low monologue, sending gentle, warm waves of reassurance through the Force. 

Her breathing slowed and her eyes blinked open, though their gaze was distant and glassy. He slowly lifted his hand and began to stroke lightly along her hairline, keeping his hands where she could see them. 

“See? You’re in Thrawn's bed. We’re both here with you. You’re safe, you’re safe.”

He turned his head slightly so he could see Thrawn out of the corner of his eye. Thrawn stood at the end of the bed, back bowed with his hands flat on the mattress, utterly still as he watched Luke comfort Mara. 

“It’s over. You’re okay. It’s okay.” 

Their eyes met, and then Thrawn straightened and turned away, crossing the room to throw on a robe before leaving through the door that led to the sitting room. Luke stared blankly at the closed door for a moment before turning back to Mara. 

“Can you sit up?” he asked her. 

“Uh-huh.” 

He helped her ease into a sitting position, leaning back against the fijisi wood headboard, before he crawled over to the side of the bed and yanked up the blankets that had been pushed over the edge. Tucking the heaviest blanket around her, he then turned to the small side table, where a crystal decanter of water and three glasses stood. She blinked rapidly as he held the glass to her lips, but bent and drank a few sips without any further coaxing. 

He cupped the back of her head and guided it to rest back against the headboard. “Can you smell the fijisi wood?” he asked. He knew that she reacted strongly to the scent, though she’d never told him why. 

“Mmm-hmm. Smells good.” 

“What does it smell like?” 

“My apartment on Coruscant,” she said after a few moments, coherency returning. “The walls are all paneled in carved fijisi wood.” 

“Tell me about the carvings.” He took her hand in his, folding his hands around her fingers and avoiding her wrists. 

“They were carved two hundred years ago by master carvers on Felucia,” she began. “The abstract carvings are traditional Felucian designs.” 

He listened as she quietly told him everything she knew about fijisi wood, his thumb brushing rhythmically over her knuckles. As focused as he was on distracting her, he couldn’t get the rush of images that Mara had inadvertently projected through the Force out of his head. 

He could imagine what happened next, and it broke his heart. After leaving the man who had broken her arm, Mara would have taken herself to a private medcenter, where she would have been treated for her injuries and left alone in a room by herself. She had no one to call; no friends to keep her company as she waited for the bacta to do its work. She would have covered up her bruises and returned to Court as soon as the meddroid had cleared her. 

“The wood is stained to bring out the rich red color.” Her eyes, which had gone soft with the memory of her private rooms, began to focus on the door opposite the bed and she trailed off. “It darkens but holds its fragrance over time…” 

“Mara—”

“Is he angry at me?” 

Luke shook his head. “Of course not. Why would he be angry at you?” 

“I overreacted. Thrawn—wasn’t even rough with me—I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s _not_ your fault, Mara.” 

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have—I’ve had worse.” 

_“Worse_ than having your _arm_ broken?” 

Her jaw worked as she struggled with the urge to argue. “It was only a fracture. Just an encounter that went poorly.” 

_“Mara.”_ He tugged at his hair with his free hand. “It shouldn’t have even happened. It’s not your fault you reacted like that.” 

Her hand twitched as if she wanted to pull away and her focus returned to the door and the man behind it. He could sense her anxiety rising again. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Mara,” he said firmly. “I need you to focus on me.” 

He guessed that she responded more to his tone than the words themselves. She tore her gaze for the door and turned her head toward him. He took her face in his hands. “You know the five-count breathing technique that I taught you?” 

Her eyes drifted back to the door, but she nodded, straightened, and took a deep breath. He kissed her forehead before he left her to it. 

Thrawn had set lights in the sitting room on low. He was slumped in his chair, long legs stretched in front of him and hands folded together, his gaze distant. The dark flush along his neck and arms had faded. 

“Why did you leave?” Luke snapped as soon as the door sealed behind him. 

Thrawn’s voice was clipped and cold. “Is that the tone you wish to take with me, Skywalker?” 

Luke took a step backward, barely restraining himself from lashing out again. He _wasn’t_ a spoiled Prince—not here—and provoking Thrawn wouldn’t improve an already tense situation. 

He took a deep breath and throttled his anger. 

“Apologies, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” He took another moment, considering his words. “The position you put Mara in triggered a flashback—from a time another man forced her into that position. He broke her arm.” Luke took a breath. “And he didn’t stop raping her, even after he’d broken her arm.” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Did she tell him to stop?” 

“She shouldn’t _have_ to!” he snarled. “He _knew_ she was in pain—”

Thrawn raised a hand and Luke snapped his mouth shut, clenching his jaw. 

“If Mara cannot communicate when her partners have crossed a line, she puts herself and her partners in a position to get hurt. That cannot continue.” 

Luke smothered another flash of anger. He was beyond frustrated with Thrawn’s habit of drawing back and assessing a situation as though everything could be worked out with the efficiency of one of his battle plans. They should _both_ be _with_ her, comforting her, but Thrawn wanted to work out... _logistics_. 

He didn’t doubt that Thrawn’s affection for the both of them was genuine—but he disliked when the other man’s obsessive need for control meant that he treated them like a lagaz puzzle box or as pieces in a dejarik game he was playing with the galaxy. 

“I agree that she _should_ say something. But—you _know_ Mara. If she thought it was her duty to keep going without saying anything, do you really think that she would tell you to stop?” 

Mara obeyed the law of their contract unless explicitly given permission otherwise, and she would probably consider asking for a stop in the middle of sex some sort of failure on her part. 

She might have even been capable of fighting off her attacker at the time—she had hand-to-hand combat training—but she was also trained to give her partners whatever they wanted, and she considered herself too much of a professional to taint a relationship that might later prove valuable with something as small as her own discomfort. She probably didn’t even think that the assault she had survived was rape. 

He wished, and not for the first time, that he could use the Force to fold back time itself, so that he could take Mara way from Court long before she was subjected to that toxic pit of vipers. The thought of Mara before Palpatine had sunk his claws into her—young, bright, utterly trusting—made him want to tear the Emperor apart with his own hands. It was already hard to imagine how he had felt half a year ago—when he couldn’t have cared less about cruelties of Palpatine’s court. 

If the man who had assaulted her was still living, he wouldn’t be for much longer. 

“We have to consider,” Thrawn said, his voice still cooly analytical. “That there might be other tripwires in her psyche.” 

The thought made Luke’s stomach churn. “I’ll talk to her. The Force might be able to do something for her.” 

Thrawn inclined his head in permission, and Luke was annoyed at the glow of pleasure Thrawn's approval sparked within him. This wasn't about them. It was about Mara. 

“But she needs us now," Luke said. "Please. I don’t think she’ll calm down until you speak to her.” 

Thrawn nodded again, not meeting Luke’s eyes. There was a pause, as though he were still working out all contingencies in his head, before he let his hands drop and rose to his feet. Luke followed him back into the bedroom. Mara looked small and pale, huddled against the bed frame, though the breathing exercises seemed to have calmed her. 

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she said, wobbling as she rose to her knees. The blanket slipped away, her naked body like an offering. Luke wasn’t surprised when she bent forward and placed her forehead to the mattress, prostrating herself before Thrawn. A Court gesture. 

Thrawn placed his hand on her head and stroked her hair for a few moments, his touch gentle. Luke could sense some of the tension draining out of her. 

“There are things we need to discuss,” Thrawn said. With light pressure to her temple, he turned her head to the side so that her responses wouldn’t be muffled, though he didn’t demand that she raise her head or look him in the eye. 

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she murmured. 

“I have made a mistake in not requesting—in not _insisting_ —that you speak out if I have pushed you too far.” His accent grew heavier, his diction slow and precise as he made his position clear, as though he could sense the heavy swirl of emotions wrapped around Mara. “Unless told otherwise, you will let me know if my actions have gone beyond what you can handle.” 

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” 

He raised his head and met Luke’s eyes. “The man who did that to you—is he still living?” 

Luke felt his mouth fall ajar. Thrawn had known how much he wanted to find the man who had done this to her and kill him, slowly and painfully—because he would have done it first. 

Mara shook her head. “He died in a raid on Concord Dawn.” 

Thrawn nodded, his eyes dropping back to her. He lifted her head, his hand cupping her chin. “You no longer belong to the Court, Mara Jade. You are mine now. _Tras._ ” 

Luke sucked in a breath at the ferocity of his words. 

“I protect what’s mine. No one will ever treat you like that again.” 

“Yes, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she recited, the words taking on the tenor of a vow. _“Dashe.” I am yours._ Crawling forward, she pressed her face into Thrawn’s middle where his robe gaped open and Luke felt his own stomach flip. Thrawn’s eyes dropped to dark red slits simmering in the low light of the bedroom. 

“May I please you?” Her voice was so soft he barely made out the words. 

“I do not require you to prove yourself to me, ch’eobun’is.” Thrawn stroked her hair as she tipped her face up to catch his expression. Her eyebrows drew together, as though she didn’t quite understand his meaning. 

Luke clenched his jaw. She might not be ready for it—not yet—but they would have to work on undoing the damage the Court had left in her head. 

“Please?” She dropped her head to mouth at the skin above his belly button, and Luke saw the muscles of his abdomen clench. Thrawn let her leave a line of soft sucking kisses across his middle, his hand still in her hair. 

Luke caught Thrawn’s eye to ask for permission to approach. “Mara? Can I touch you?” 

She glanced up at Thrawn, waiting for his nod of approval. “Yes,” she said, and sighed as he slid his hands along her side. He moved slowly, carefully, as much to reassure her as himself. 

“Back on the bed,” Thrawn said, taking a step back and shrugging off his robe. Together they shifted back onto the middle of the bed. Thrawn arranged them so that Mara lay between them, Luke at her back. 

Before stretching himself along Mara’s front, Thrawn twisted away, reaching back into the nightstand by the bed. When he settled in front of Mara, he gently lifted her hands, holding them up to the light. A faint bluish blush was already forming around her wrists. 

“They don’t hurt—”

Thrawn made a shushing sound and Mara fell silent. His mouth was set in a line, a fine crease appearing between his eyebrows. Silver flashed in his hand and Luke realized that he was holding a small jar—the jar of the same bacta salve Mara used on her bruises. Her breath hitched as Thrawn began to massage the salve into her skin, his fingers working in gentle circles over the thin bones of her wrist. Finishing one hand, he pressed it to his chest and started on the next. 

Luke kissed her shoulder and stroked his hands along her side—wide, slow, sweeping motions from the curve of her rib cage to the swell of her hip. Thrawn began speaking to her in Chenuth, his voice a quiet rumble of words that Luke and Mara only half-understood. _You please me. My gift. Mine._ After he finished tending to her wrists, his hands followed Luke’s slow path over her body—a caress up her arm, her hands still resting against his chest, then down along her side, thumb brushing the line of her hip bone. 

Luke could feel the tight-strung thrumming of his nerves gradually relaxing into the low hum of arousal, most of it an echo of Mara’s state. She moaned as Thrawn’s hand drifted down between her legs. They lay there together, warmth building between their bodies, only the soft sounds that Mara made as Thrawn fingered her breaking the quiet of the room. 

Luke caught the motion of Mara’s hand sliding away from its place on Thrawn’s chest, down his body, and wrapping around him. Thrawn's hand stilled in the curve of her waist. His eyes narrowed and his breath picked up as she stroked him to fullness. 

“Ch’ah ch’epasahn ttis’ahvah,” she said. _I want to please you_. 

“Vah k’ir,” he agreed, snaking an arm around her and pulling her on top of him as he rolled onto his back. She shifted until she was sitting upright. Thrawn’s large blue hands encircled her waist, guiding her down on his cock. He kept the pace slow and measured at first, letting her warm up as she rocked on top of him. They fucked slowly, almost indolently. Luke kept his gaze on her face, watching as pleasure soothed away the last traces of distress. Her hair was thoroughly mussed; fine golden stands drifting loose and catching the light. 

Luke saw her gaze flick down toward his half-hard cock, her hand making an aborted gesture toward him. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I came earlier, remember? You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“But—" 

“I want to watch you. I can jerk myself off later.” He winked up at her. 

He was happy just to watch her taking her pleasure with Thrawn. Luke could tell that she held herself back until Thrawn gave a low grunt as he emptied himself inside of her, and then she came apart, shuddering on top of him. Thrawn pulled her down and kissed her leisurely. Luke could feel satisfaction pulsing out of both of them—contentment replacing the turmoil that had been roiling under their skin earlier that night. Mara tucked her head under Thrawn’s chin and closed her eyes, sighing. His hand raised to run his fingers through her hair.

Mara showed no signs of moving from her spot splayed on top of Thrawn. Luke thought she might fall asleep right there, her head resting on Thrawn’s chest, legs bracketing his hips. He knew that Thrawn wouldn't enjoy the heat of her body seeping into him all night; he had his limits and preferred not to have his movements hampered by them. 

Luke reached over and tugged at Mara until she moved off of Thrawn, back into the space between them. She turned in his arms, so that her back now faced Thrawn, who shifted obligingly onto his side and draped an arm around her waist. She pulled Luke close, throwing a leg over his hip and pressing her face into his neck. 

“Ch’eo bun’is,” he heard Thrawn rumble. 

“Dashe,” he breathed. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Cheunh
> 
> Tras — mine  
> Dashe — I am yours  
> Ch’eo bun’is — my gift  
> Ch’ah ch’epasahn ttis’ah vah — I want [to] pleasure you. (Mara’s grammar is slightly off, and Luke is wrong about the exact translation).  
> Vah k’ir — you do


End file.
